Chaotic Playthings
by systematic-alchemy
Summary: Nikita and Caroline, homeless for different reasons, find themselves framed for murder and taken to Section where they're recruited to be Dolls. The Dolls are Operatives that do whatever the Machine and Section send them to do: take down big players before they get big, terrorists, or just baddies that the cops can't get. (Person of Interest included.)
1. Chapter 1

Nikita woke up surrounded by white. Blinded by the light that seemed to come from everywhere, she called out for her girl, "Caroline! Echo! Where are you?"

An impenetrable looking door opened and a man dressed in all black designer clothes entered. His posture as perfect as a mannequin, and an air about him she'd grown an instinct to avoid. "Hello, Nikita." He had a bit of a French accent, but that didn't make her feel better.

"Where am I? Where's Caroline?" She backed up as far from this man as she could.

"You're in Section One. And your lover is in the next room." He rounded the bed, so she scurried over it to the other side.

"When can I see her?"

His pause created more unease in her. "After you've been scanned into the system and imprinted."

"Imprinted? What the hell's going on here?" Avoidance instincts put on hold, Nikita readied for a fight.

The man sat on her bed and pointed a remote at the wall. "This is what's going on." An image of a fresh grave without a stone shown on the wall. "This is your grave. You were executed in prison for murdering a police officer. The execution was faked and you were brought here to be a Doll. An Operative that can kill with efficiency, but no remorse."

"But I didn't kill anyone!" Memories of the dead cop in the drugstore flashed over and over, until she couldn't hold back the tears. "What if I refuse?"

"Row eight, plot thirty." And he left, a distinct clink of a lock engaging reverberated in his wake.

* * *

When the door opened, and a man in all black walked in, Caroline attacked, only to be thrown off like she had all the strength of a mouse. His unaffected, "Good morning," only served to irritate her more. But she knew a losing fight when she saw it.

"Where the fuck am I?"

"You're not in prison anymore. The world thinks you're dead. Suicide after your girlfriend's execution." He handed her a glossy photograph of a cemetery. "That's your funeral."

There were no people in the picture, and the idea that no one cared enough to mourn her dropped the photo to the floor. Walking away and sitting on the bed, Caroline jutted her chin out. "You never answered my question. Where am I?"

"You're in Section One."

"Never heard of it. Who're you?" Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned back as if unconcerned.

"My name is Michael. And if you behave, you might get scanned and imprinted today."

"Hmm, and what does that mean exactly?"

"We'll scan a copy of your brain into the computer, complete with memories and abilities, and we'll imprint the basic training programs in you. Fit you for the hardware, surgery will be the next day." He didn't leave her time to comment, but rather walked out the door, lock clinking in place behind him.

"I'm going to be a goddamn cyborg. Fucking hell, Car, you couldn't let the idea of Dolls go, could you? You just had to keep pushing and pushing until becoming a Doll yourself, didn't you?"

* * *

Watching on the monitors in the hall, Michael heard what Caroline muttered to herself. A moment later he was joined by both Operations, Adelle and Paul.

"At least she knows why she's here," Adelle said in her crisp English posh.

"Indeed," Operations replied. "The question is, should we reunite these two, or keep them apart?"

"I say we return them to each other once they're initiated, but with the threat of separating them should they give us any trouble."

"Separating in the permanent sense, I imagine."

"Of course." Adelle turned to Michael. "Pick one and bring her to Topher's office. The sooner we get them processed, the sooner we can send them out. We've got more numbers than we can handle as it is."

Michael bowed his head. "Of course, Ms. DeWitt. They'll both be processed by this afternoon and ready to go out tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mr. Samuelle."

"Michael."

And the Co-Operations walked down the hall in opposing directions.


	2. Chapter 2

Nikita touched the base of her skull where the port had been planted just under the skin. Other than the area being tender, she couldn't feel anything there. The scruffy blond kid ran around the office like he'd mainlined some kind of uppers. His excitement puzzled her.

He looked at the readings on one screen. "Oh this is very good." He looked at another screen. "Very very good."

"Topher." Michael made what should have been a question into a statement that brought the kid with the ugly sweater vest to a hault.

"Her body's processing the process better than any Doll we've ever had. It's like she was incomplete before the bitty bots fed her nourishment she didn't even know she needed." Topher pointed to yet another screen. "The bots have already flushed her system of drugs, and her brain looks like someone that never even tried caffeine. She's perfect. She might even be my masterpiece."

Nikita observed all this in silence. Knowledge that she had no idea how she got told her that talking or creating a scene right now would work against her interests.

"But is she ready for Walter?" Michael asked.

It took Topher a moment to register that he'd been asked a question as he looked at another screen. "Hmm, what? Oh yeah, she's ready for the whole tour."

With a gesture for her to follow him, Michael walked out of the warm environment of the imprinting room. The disturbing thing she started to realize was that she hadn't seen a single window to the outside. Following Michael down a hallway that looked like all the others. Then into a large open space with catwalks, minimalist design and furnishings. Adelle and Paul watched with an eagle eye the comings and goings from an overlook. The far wall was all giant screens with information displayed in an accessible way. One listed team statuses, those incoming, outgoing, and in progress. Most of the others showed the profiles of Dolls complete with their blood pressure, temperature, brain chemical levels, and something labeled "Critical Level." All this overseen by a boy that looked like he'd just turned eighteen. His clothes looked post apocalyptic.

"That's Birkoff. He's in charge of intel and mission parameters." He then gestured to a set of large doors. "Madeline's and Lawrence's office is through there." Michael then stopped in front of an alcove. "This is Walter's station. When he's finished with you, report to Madeline and Lawrence. You... should get to know them."

"Sugar!" An older man with white thinning hair on top that still managed to form a ponytail greeted her with a flirtatious smile. "You must be Nikita."

She grinned at him with false sincerity. "And you're Walter." She waved her finger at all the gadgets hanging on the wall. "What's all this?"

"I'm in charge of all your hardware. Weapons, bugs, lock picks, safe crackers, explosives, goggles, you name it and I've either improved it or made it from scratch. Now just give me your finger." He took her hand with his calloused one and stuck her finger with a tiny needle then used a tab and meter that looked like diabetic equipment. "I have to get your DNA registered to the tech you're authorized for. That way you can use it but the enemy can't. You don't want to become a statistic."

"Sounds like science fiction. How's that possible?"

"Most science fact started as science fiction. And governments have a long history of having technology far more advanced than the private sector. Plus they have me. That's just a winning combination. And I take my job of keeping your beautiful self safe and sound seriously."

Her smile this time was more genuine. "That's a lot of S's."

Walter leaned in. "I have a talented tongue and I'm not just talking language skills either."

"I'll keep that in mind. So what else do I have to do here?"

"Nothing. You're DNA will integrate into the system by midnight and you'll be able to start missions tomorrow. You should get to where you need to be next. The last thing you want to do around here is piss anyone off. Especially on your first day."

With a nod Nikita left and headed to the large doors leading to Madeline and Lawrence. A woman passed her that bore a resemblance to Caroline. Thinking about her lover still being in prison stabbed her in the gut with the loss.

* * *

While Topher was prepping her for surgery, Caroline glared at Michael. "I thought this wasn't going to happen until tomorrow."

"You must be prepared for anything at any time."

"Whatever. You seem bored."

Michael looked at Topher. "Let me know when she's ready."

"You got it, buddy."

For someone so lacking emotion, Michael seemed like drama queen to her. "Is he always like that?"

"Yeah well, Michael's been here a long time, and he gets sent on the most difficult missions, so forgive his being an ass to tenth power. I'd say he warms up as you get to know him, but I'd be lying." With a wipe of something cold on the back of her neck, Topher said, "All done with that. Now lets get you imprinted. Lay back please."

* * *

After flirting with Walter, Car got psychoanalyzed by Madeline and Lawrence, followed by getting the 411 on how things worked from Birkoff. Now all she wanted to do was sleep for a week.

With a few directions she found her new apartment, unthrilled that it lived in the depths of the facility. She keyed in the code and walked into a cozy apartment that looked like the one that Nikita always talked about them getting one day. She sucked up her tears and decided a tour could wait. Up the small flight of stairs looked like the bedroom, and that looked like the best destination. Before taking a step, she heard:

"Who's there?"

Caroline froze. Nikita? It couldn't be. She'd been executed. But when she saw her round the corner alive and well, Caroline's defenses crumbled and she attacked Nikita with a sobbing vice grip of a hug.

"Car?" Nikita was breathless as she held her lover again. "I thought I'd never see you again. Are you okay? How'd you get here?"

"We'll talk later. Right now I just want to touch you and kiss you." Caroline leaned back until she could press her lips to Nikita's, drinking her girlfriend in for the first time in almost a year.

* * *

Adelle walked into Topher's office. "Tell me about our newest Dolls. I hear Nikita's imprinting went well."

Topher blew a lungful of air out his lips, unable to contain himself. "She's just stunning. You should see the prognosis. It's a thing of beauty."

"And Caroline?"

His excitement deflated. "The computer has several predictions for her. All of them incompatible with the others. So we'll just have to strap on our seat-belts and see where that ride takes us."

The exaggerated mannerisms of the Section's senior technician never worried Adelle, but the 'oh shucks' look he wore now didn't bode well, and she knew it. "Keep her under close observation. And give all her readouts to me. Paul doesn't need to worry about this unless it becomes a problem."

"Will do." He saluted her as she left.


	3. Chapter 3

"Anything new from Whiskey, Sierra, or Victor?" Paul Wolfe asked as five of the six on the Section 1 committee settled in.

Her jade teapot steaming, Adelle poured for the other four before herself. "All the reports say things are fine. It doesn't seem to matter that all the mobs and cartels have upgraded machinery. They haven't detected our tech in our sleeper Dolls. And they won't. Between Topher and Bennett everything is, as always, under control."

Madeline held her cup in her palm. "Is there anything we need to discuss before deciding assignments?"

Ignoring the tea, Topher popped open a can of the latest energy drink. "The only thing on my end is to remember Nikita and her girly friend are new. There will be some very very temporary memory gaps. Things that could even be important to them, will be forgotten for short periods of time."

Laurence walked into the conference room, his demeanor that of the most forceful CEOs. "Is anyone aware of the anomaly with Nikita?"

Adelle poured another cup of tea and set it on the coffee table. "Please sit, Mr. Dominic, and tell us something we don't already know."

He caught her dry sarcasm and even his eye roll seemed corporate. "So you know she'd been told her lover was here? The one she took the heat for? Because our forensics told us that Caroline was the shooter. And Nikita, as far as we can tell, has never had any idea of why Caroline shot the officer. Can anyone explain why she'd forget something like that?"

"Hey, hey, hey scowly man, it's a common problem with the ones that take to the process well. It shows brain remapping." Topher smiled and laughed. "That's what we want, right? Their brains to work how we want them to? I'm positive she's fine now. "

Paul smiled as well. "Laurence, don't strain yourself, everything's within acceptable parameters."

"I think we need to focus on the new numbers." Madeline ran her fingers over the rim of her cup. "Michael will be supervising Caroline and Nikita, so we'll need to decide who to put on the number with the least information and where to place him and his new team. He's not going to like an easy assignment. We can't put him on anything without challenge but it can't be too difficult for the new Dolls either."

"Since wiping them at the end of the day is no longer an option, we'll need to make sure they're prepared for the time and locale differences. Just as we do with all our new recruits despite the hurried schedule." Adelle gave Paul a pointed glance.

"We had no choice, Adelle, and you know it. We had a mole that needed eliminated, and we couldn't shut down for two months to sift through every memory of every Doll. Now let's look at these numbers shall we? Is there any extensive traveling needed?" Paul picked up the latest batch of intel, skimmed it and smiled. "This one should be right up Michael's alley, Ashley Macalsan. We have no pictures anywhere, but we do have a trail that lends to the idea this number belongs to a civilian."

Birkoff held a sigh. "I'm usually Michael's tech support, but we might have to give him Hillanger this time to compensate."

"Uh oh, Big Mike's not going to like that one bit." Topher sucked in a breath as he winced.

A red flash went off on Birkoff's panel. "We'll sort out the irrelevants later, 'cause we just got a repeat number on the relevant list. Langton knows everyone that isn't brand new except Michael. And Caroli…"

"How confusing is this?" Topher asked looking more serious than usual. "Every time someone says the name Caroline I can't help but think of, um, the other one."

"Well, Mr. Samuelle did say that Nikita calls Caroline something else from time to time. Echo, I believe. Would you prefer we call her that Mr. Brinks?" Adelle asked keeping a shrewd eye on him.

"I'd like that a lot better, yeah." He nodded.

"Can we all agree to call Caroline Echo?" Adelle looked around the group as everyone expressed their agreement. "Good."

"I suggest that we put Michael and his team on Mr. Langton. Echo's history allows her a more intimate knowledge than anything we have. Besides Echo and Nikita needed little time to get into shape and required the least amount of augmentation. I believe we can all agree that suits them to this engagement better than anyone else we have." Madeline sipped her tea.

"This seems almost serendipitous." Paul grinned the way he did every time something went better than predicted.

"Moving on. We have four numbers on the irrelevant list that need covered. I think that Jurgen should take our Ashley Macalsan and Davenport can take the one without intel, Helen Udinov. At least it's a slow day." Adelle said as she read over the next number's information.

* * *

"Your hair has to be a mile longer," Echo said as she braided Nikita's hair. They had little time to get ready and if she left Nikita to do it herself they'd be here for hours rather than minutes.

Nikita turned and tugged on Caroline's looser braid. "Yours too. We need to report to Walter."

"Did they mention whether this would be a relevant or an 'irrelevant' number?" Echo asked as they walked out their door.

"Relevant."

"Hmm. I didn't think they'd start us off on a relevant number."

"Since it's our first mission or whatever?" Nikita asked as she pressed the button to the lift, she found by some sort of miracle considering the maze Section was.

"I think they call them engagements, but that's exactly my problem with this. Why would they start us off on a terrorism case? The number wouldn't have come up if it weren't serious, right?" They got on the elevator and hit the green button.

"That's what they say." Nikita said as the doors opened sooner than she'd predicted and Michael stood there waiting for them.

Walter greeted them handing those super advanced tablets they had here over to Michael. "Hey Sugarcubes! I've loaded the three of you up with all the toys I could I manage without going over allowance. Northern Ireland is a pain and we won't have easy access to each other. Michael told me that I had to stay home rather than escort my favorite Dolls out." He winked and the women smiled, while Michael might as well have not heard a word as he studied the tablet.

"The van's already loaded." Michael looked up at Walter. "They need their panels."

"Yes, Sir. I live to please." Walter turned on his heel with an extra amorous whimsy.

"Did he say Northern Ireland?" Echo asked, while Nikita's question differed greatly. "I want to know if he flirts with everyone?"

"He's never flirted with me," Birkoff said as he walked up to the group.

"That's because it'd be illegal in every civilized part of the world and some not so civilized as well." Nikita said as she bumped his shoulder with hers.

Echo raised her hand. "Is anyone going to talk about how we're crossing the Atlantic?"

"Honey, haven't you noticed the impressive collection of European accents around here? Even Birkoff and Walter have muddled accents. We're more likely just crossing the North Channel." Nikita teased her girlfriend.

"When did we cross the ocean?"

"My guess." Nikita pointed to the date on Michael's panel. "Sometime during the two weeks we don't remember."

Caroline ran her hands over her face and hair. "I need answers before I do anything."

"I'll explain during transport." Michael gestured as Walter handed them their panels. "Birkoff, lead them to transport A. I'll be there in a moment."

When the others walked off, Echo still displeased, Michael headed toward Operations. But Adelle sat on the couch at the bottom of the stairs to the loft. "Is there a problem, Mr. Samuelle?"

He took a small breath before stating without emotion, "Caroline has reverted to her former personality."

"We're calling her Echo, but yes, she seems to have regressed farther than we usually allow, but we are short of good actives. And if nothing else, it seems to require something she has that no one else here has." Adelle stood up. "A knowledge of what Mr. Langton looks like. I believe even you would find that useful."

"Of course."

"And Michael, do remember that I doubt we'd be able to keep Nikita without Echo. We'd have no leverage." Adelle walked up the stairs while Michael left for his engagement.


	4. Chapter 4

Michael sat across from Nikita and Echo, studying them. They held hands, leaned into each other, whispered to each other, and Nikita seemed to enjoy how uncomfortable they were making Birkoff, while Echo didn't appear to be aware. Michael knew she noticed though. A twinge at the corner of her eye every time Birkoff squirmed told Michael that she knew, and only continued because Nikita seemed to be having so much fun. Just under the surface of Nikita's happiness was a tension. The same tension likely heightened Echo's edginess.

"You two need to understand that if you try to escape, they'll kill one of you. If one of you escapes, they'll torture the other for months before letting them one that escaped or if you escape together they'll wipe you and leave you wherever you land the first second they can." He gestured for Birkoff to show them what that meant.

They didn't seem affected at the sight of themselves wearing yoga pants and tank tops working out in the Section Gym. The footfalls on the treadmills thumping, and the weight machines clanking with every completed rep soothed rather than upset either of them. Until they started to see other things. They saw that they did everything they were told to do, their voices and demeanors as innocent as happy toddlers. When they saw that they were ordered to eat refuse and did so without question, that they continued to eat the sewage until they both threw up their meals, crying and hunched down, they reacted like he needed them to, fear and tears. When Birkoff shut off the panel his relief sighed through the entire van.

"Don't worry, we wouldn't have allowed you to ingest anything harmful, but outside you won't have such protections." Michael opened his mouth and it took a second before he spoke again as if making sure that no one would try to interrupt. "While the tech in your bodies and the effort to get you to an appropriate Section has cost a small fortune, it's inconsequential to the unlimited funds at Section's disposal."

"It's more like we don't pay for anything," Birkoff muttered as he put the tablet back in his bag, but his comment went overlooked by both women.

Echo recovered first. "You expect us to do be what for you? Assassins? Prostitutes? Spies? Detectives?"

"We expect you to be all of those and more. You'll learn that we do what we have to to ensure the public's safety. All of us live with sacrifice as a part of daily life. Section owns every last Doll and administrator."

As Nikita cringed in the midst of stymied hysteria, Birkoff tried to comfort them. "Compared to some of the other Houses, we can pay attention to the 'irrelevant' list. In places like the Middle East and Korea, they don't have the time or resources to even look at that list. Which is how it got titled irrelevant in the first place."

"And what are you? A Doll or an administrator?" Echo's voice reached new levels of animosity she'd never knew were hidden in her as she glared at Michael.

"Both."

Nikita sniffed, composed herself somewhat and caught Birkoff's gaze in a trap. "And what are you?"

"I'm a specific type of Doll. I'm a Technician Doll." His defensiveness created a small sneer that could be heard as he talked. "My dual primary functions are to take the lead on anything relating to computers and making sure that you have every skill you need for any situation. My secondary function is to serve as an emergency backup."

"Birkoff has the same architecture we do." Michael said as what felt like an afterthought.

"Great. Now I have to spend the entire flight explaining what you meant by architecture." Birkoff shook his head as he opened the van door.

The van had dropped them at an airport Nikita had never heard of. Given the circumstances of late she assumed it belonged to Section. The ominous meaning of getting on that plane made Nikita's legs both weak and stiff. Talking helped keep her moving. "Architecture. I'm guessing that's the way they reworked our neurons. The new pathways allow for optimum use of every memory and skill." She grabbed Echo's hand as if it could save her.

"That's what I figured." Echo said as she winced under Nikita's iron grip. The irony was not lost on Echo. She was the one afraid of flying and even more afraid of flying over bodies of water, but here she was comforting Nikita who'd never had any fear of anything really. "When did you get a head for science?"

"She had a natural aptitude for it, so we just boosted the signal so to speak." Birkoff loaded two cases onto the plane, as did Michael before Caroline and Nikita boarded. "Just so you know, this is the last time I carry your bags."

"Got it kid."

"I'm not a kid," Birkoff said off hand, a comment he needed to use a lot. "Since I don't have to explain anything to either of you, I'd like to get to work now. We'll be in Belfast in two hours tops and I have a lot of information to gather."

Michael took up the pilot's seat just as Echo and Nikita took their seats. A crew appeared out of nowhere to deal with all the outside necessities for the plane to take off. And in no time they were in the air, and Birkoff had headphones on as he concentrated on finding anything and everything that he could on the Langton/Belfast connection. That the straggling IRA members didn't have any resources or connections these days, and that Langton would never be so stupid as to hope for something like that, told Birkoff that he needed to look for something small or just a particular breed of science geek. Section tracked anyone with any true scientific skills, so Birkoff ran a brief search of that list. His foot tapping to the throbbing techno beat flowing through and energizing him.

While the trope of having to type fast to hack annoyed the hell out of him, Birkoff knew why it existed. Typing faster meant results faster and if you could type like he could, and never have a flaw in your program like him, then typing fast made a lot of sense. Though for him it usually stemmed from impatience more than anything. So the hour and half flight ended with him having the best leads on where to start looking for Langton.

"Echo?" Michael asked as they disembarked. "You have a history with Boyd Langton."

"So? All I know is that he's looney tunes and likes to hear his own propaganda spouted by every person he can convert. How the technology that I now understand really was stolen from him, would save the world. Cure all diseases both physical and mental everything from Aids to Alzheimer's. My question is could it really do all that?"

"Yes and no." Michael handed Echo a case, then Nikita. Birkoff already had his.

"What he means is that it could, if we wanted what Topher ludicrously calls the thought-pocalypse. That's me warning you about how childish he is no matter what his architecture or imprints. But if the tech got out into the world even doing great things like curing cancer would quickly get turned into weapons that would control the minds of billions, if not everyone in the world. It'd already be happening if Topher and Bennett didn't work for us. Hillanger's been neutralized too. Making the world safe as houses if we can keep a lid on anyone that might be as smart or smarter than us."

"Well then Boyd must be looking for brain power or funding here." Nikita said as she put the case in the back of a more common van than the all black no windows monstrosity from before. "The file said all his accounts were frozen. So any ideas which one we're looking at?"

Michael started the van as the others got their seats. Birkoff sitting to his left felt strange, since he usually sat in the back to continue working rather than get distracted by the scenery.

"We're going to be looking for brains over financing. There's a college drop out that's been on our radar for years. We've never bothered him due to his sincere and complete lack of ambition. That is up till a week ago when he started what I'm going to just assume are conversations with our target. We're looking for Ashley Macal...san. Crap."

"What's wrong?" Echo asked.

"It's the name of an irrelevant." Michael didn't flinch but an uncomfortable air filled the vehicle anyway.

"How did the all powerful secret government organization that kidnapped us miss that Ashley was already being watched by them?"

"I'm still rebuilding the programs." Birkoff seemed pissed. "I've spent too much time as an Operative lately to get the job done. The old computer admin thought it would be too dangerous to have the systems understand each other too much. So he designed the watch list to be run by facial recognition, when the Machine works via numbers. This one fell through my temporary patch because there aren't any pictures of the guy. For any ID he claims religious beliefs as to why he can't be photographed."

"Who's working on the Macalsan engagement?" Michael asked.

"Jurgen's team." Brikoff's sigh worried the women. More worrisome was that Michael didn't respond.

"I'd say yay for fireworks, but I don't think these will be the good kind." Echo said.

With a nod Nikita replied, "Sounds more like a fuze that'll lead to explosions at the worst moment possible."


End file.
